Prologue
Looking back, Hermione knew her mistake. She'd let her guard slip. It was too late now. Bounded by magical ropes and kneeling on the cold stone floor in front of Lord Voldermort. She'd had an argument with Ron in Hogsmead, and stormed off by herself. They'd been waiting for her in their dark capes. Macniar and Gibbon. They ambushed her and took her wand. She put up a good fight, but she'd never really had a chance. How could she have been so stupid; brightest witch of her age, ha!
Hermione sat awaiting her fate. She could die today, having never had the chance to say goodbye, or to say … Ron. She would never see Ron again. Maybe she would have to experience a fate much worse than death. There was nothing she could do.